To think I was going to write fan fiction this summer after the novel was done. Hah!
After some consideration, I have struck two nations off the map. Narwhelm and Anerst have been struck from the map, their citizens and cities annexed by their neighbor nations and all mention of them scoured from history. They do not exist, they have never existed, they are unnations. For I am a Tyrant!
Anyway, fiction progress is slow. It is coming along, to an extent, but it is still slow, slow, slow. I feel like I'm getting closer to the parts that I'm actually aiming for. But still, after sixty thousand words*, I haven't gotten to kill anyone. It makes sense, because when I take my first life I want it to be a Spock, and then work down to the Redshirts**. You have to go out of your way to kill your darlings in fiction, both to keep yourself from jumping through hoops to keep them alive ("He didn't get out of the cockadoodie car!"), and to keep the audience on their toes; I have a fantasy of writing a series of books, and then killing off the apparent star of the series at the end of chapter two of the penultimate volume, or even the antepenultimate if it's way, way too freaking long. Of course, I also believe that you should be licensed before you write a book for publication which contains a dragon, a unicorn, any anthropomorphic manifestation of Evil, or a supernatural force that seeks to destroy the world, so (as I've said before, on many occasions) I'm not the guy you want making decisions on these sorts of things. I also want to have a super-rich, neutraltagonist (which is now a word, because I've used it, and it's apparent what it means) who lives on his own decommissioned aircraft carrier, just because he is awesome, and then the plot will justify it.
*Yes. I have written ten thousand words in seven months. No, I'm not very impressed with myself.
** Geeky? Yes. That said, I really don't think I know as much as I should about Star Trek.
On the bright side, I did get a chance to spontaneously create a folk tale (or, as they call it, a bandit-tale), complete with a way the tale traditionally begins (In the dark days before Cale, when thieves were lords and lords were thieves, when fools lived in palaces while wise men wandered the earth with no destination besides the road that stretched before them, and no purpose beyond finding the end of it, there was...). I like folk tales, with the seeking-of-fortunes and strangers-in-need-at-the-side-of-the-road and, my favorite, the eclectic-objects-to-be-thrown-over-the-shoulder-during-a-chase-sequence, as seen in Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. I don't think they have the third in Caledon, but the other two are more than enough.
I still haven't figured out names, but I'm going to just say I'll come back to it.
So... it's coming along. I just have to keep at it. Tenacity is something time must teach me.
I had a couch dropped on my big toe today. Nothing broken, although it hurts a lot when I actually think about it.
Anyway, fiction progress is slow. It is coming along, to an extent, but it is still slow, slow, slow. I feel like I'm getting closer to the parts that I'm actually aiming for. But still, after sixty thousand words*, I haven't gotten to kill anyone. It makes sense, because when I take my first life I want it to be a Spock, and then work down to the Redshirts**. You have to go out of your way to kill your darlings in fiction, both to keep yourself from jumping through hoops to keep them alive ("He didn't get out of the cockadoodie car!"), and to keep the audience on their toes; I have a fantasy of writing a series of books, and then killing off the apparent star of the series at the end of chapter two of the penultimate volume, or even the antepenultimate if it's way, way too freaking long. Of course, I also believe that you should be licensed before you write a book for publication which contains a dragon, a unicorn, any anthropomorphic manifestation of Evil, or a supernatural force that seeks to destroy the world, so (as I've said before, on many occasions) I'm not the guy you want making decisions on these sorts of things. I also want to have a super-rich, neutraltagonist (which is now a word, because I've used it, and it's apparent what it means) who lives on his own decommissioned aircraft carrier, just because he is awesome, and then the plot will justify it.
*Yes. I have written ten thousand words in seven months. No, I'm not very impressed with myself.
** Geeky? Yes. That said, I really don't think I know as much as I should about Star Trek.
On the bright side, I did get a chance to spontaneously create a folk tale (or, as they call it, a bandit-tale), complete with a way the tale traditionally begins (In the dark days before Cale, when thieves were lords and lords were thieves, when fools lived in palaces while wise men wandered the earth with no destination besides the road that stretched before them, and no purpose beyond finding the end of it, there was...). I like folk tales, with the seeking-of-fortunes and strangers-in-need-at-the-side-of-the-road and, my favorite, the eclectic-objects-to-be-thrown-over-the-shoulder-during-a-chase-sequence, as seen in Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. I don't think they have the third in Caledon, but the other two are more than enough.
I still haven't figured out names, but I'm going to just say I'll come back to it.
So... it's coming along. I just have to keep at it. Tenacity is something time must teach me.
I had a couch dropped on my big toe today. Nothing broken, although it hurts a lot when I actually think about it.